The Wulf
by Irk Splee
Summary: I was going to write a bunch of stories about how the DP ghosts died, but that plan went under. This is the story of Wulf, and how he met his end. Forgive errors. I'll get to fixing it eventually. Maybe.


This will (eventually) be a collection of stories about the ghosts of DP. What were their lives like? How did they die? Why are they who they are now? My first story will focus on Wulf. I don't know Esperanto, and I doubt most of my readers do anyway, so... pretend all dialouge is Esperanto unless mentioned otherwise.

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Many years ago, a small nameless town existed in Denmark. Only about a thousand people lived there at any one time, and most families there had lived on that land for generations and would probably continue to live there for all of eternity. The villagers did not like to think of themselves as Danish- no, this town had nothing to do with Denmark. They were their own country. Most of the current villagers were not sure why this was, but they went along with it. Surely the village's founders had their reasons. They did all they could to separate themselves from Denmark- they even refused to speak Danish. The founders taught themselves Esperanto, and that became the town's official language. It also kept mostpeople from moving in- surely, it wasn't worth learning an entirely new language just so they could live in such a tiny town! The inhabitants of the small Danish town were all gathered in the town square. The mayor had called them there, with an important announcement. A beast had been menacing his precious town, and he had no ideas on stopping it. He had to let the people of his town know about the monster, and see if anyone had any ideas on destroying it.

"WEREWOLVES!" was his first word after he had called everyone there- not a hard task, considering the small population. "A werewolf is among us! Wrecking our farms and homes! Murdering our people! This creature must be stopped!" A young woman in the front of the crowd spoke up in a rather snotty tone of voice. "We NOTICED," she snapped. "It's rather hard to miss a gigantic WOLF skulking about town." Everyone in the group became rather talkative, all on the same subject- yes, of COURSE they noticed the wolf, now, Mr. Mayor, just what do you plan on doing about it? Not everyone was discussing this, though- a young man was standing in the back of the crowd, looking up anxiously. Why'd the mayor have to call this meeting tonight? Tonight, of all nights? Tonight, a night of the full moon? Of course, that was probably the point- the clouds would be moving soon, the moon would shine down, and the town would know who was guilty of the ravages. Not that he knew what he was doing in his werewolf state- he didn't meant to destroy, to cause harm, to KILL... he attempted to sneak out of the crowd. Perhaps he could get to his house, lock the doors- not that it ever worked. The wolf smelled living creatures, and it was hungry. When he tried to lock himself into his house, the wolf would just break out, hungry, willing to do anything for a meal... but oddly enough, no one ever noticed which house the wolf was breaking out of. At least if he hid in his house, no one would know he was the wolf. He couldn't let anyone know, as he was learning... the mayor had confirmed the man's suspicions as to the point of the meeting. "Tonight is full moon," the mayor had said. "Every last human being living in this town is together now. I have reason to believe that one of you is a werewolf. Reason to believe that one of you is a killer. And do you all know what we do with killers in this town?" The entire crowd yelled the same thing- "EXECUTION!" The man gulped- he didn't want to be killed for something he wasn't responsible for, killed for the work of a creature living inside of him...he backed away, trying to get out of the crowd. The mayor noticed his attempted escape. "ULF!" he shouted- the town was so tiny, the mayor knew the names of every last villager, and most villagers didn't share first names with anyone else. The wolf was such a person. He was the only one named Ulf. "ULF!" the mayor shouted again. "Until we discover our culprit, YOU ARE TO STAY IN SIGHT OF ALL OF US. Or else I'll have reasons to think that YOU are our murderer!" Ulf sidled back into his spot. He then spoke for the first time that night. "Sir... this is just a thought... why execute the werewolf? Why should someone die all because they had the misfortune to be attacked?" His hand subconsciously went to his upper arm. He had a long scar from his shoulder to his elbow from the attack. He told everyone his attacker was a true wolf, and not a werewolf, but he doubted he'd be able to hide that fact much longer. After thinking back to the attack for a few seconds, he continued to speak. "And besides, this is just a thought, but... what if the 'murderer' can't control himself at full moon? Why should we execute someone all due to the work of a creature inside of them? Perhaps we should try to think of another way... a cure, perhaps, or a way to keep the wolf away from everyone during the full moon..." The mayor chuckled. "Can't control himself? The werewolf has shown human intelligence. Surely no canine could know how to ambush his prey, to trick! Wolves are fairly escapable, but once this werewolf picks his prey they don't escape. Potential rescuers don't escape alive. They become meals. And the creature has spoken more than once! Threatened us before running into the woods on times that it has filled itself on our crops and livestock... no, there is a human mind in there. And even if he DID have control... nothing cures lycanthropy, and nothing can hold a hungry werewolf. No, execution is the only possible solution." The mayor looked up. "And any minute now, we'll have our culprit..." He reached down and lifted a silver knife. Ulf's eyes widened, and he looked up as well. And all of a sudden he felt the transformation. Black fur began to cover his body. "NO!" he mouthed, and tried to hold it back, tried to stop changing... the fur stopped growing, and shrunk back inside of his body. Ulf looked up again... the last cloud had moved, and the full power of the moon was shining on him now... it was hopeless. The whole crowed, mayor included, had their eyes fixed on Ulf. The fur continued to grow, and a tail was beginning to grow. He felt his face grow a canine snout. He dropped down on all fours, and his hands and feet became paws, tearing his shoes to shreds. His clothing was becoming ripped shreds of fabric littered on the ground as he grew in size. "NO!" he shouted. "NO! I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS! EVERYONE, RUN! I can't... can't control... I DON'T WANT TO BE A KILLER!" After shouting this, the werewolf mind took hold. Ulf couldn't move. Whatever the wolf wanted, it got... and right now, it wanted the fresh meat all around it. The whole crowd screamed, and most ran, although a couple people were glued to the ground in fear. "Ulf..." the mayor said darkly, threateningly. "So this is why you were trying to defend the wolf. Trying to keep yourself alive. Trying to get the blame off of yourself- oh, no, that wasn't ME eating people left and right! That was the WOLF! I couldn't CONTROL myself!" The mayor jumped off of the podium clutching his knife. Ulf was desperate to run, or at least say something in his defense... but he could do nothing. The wolf had total control. And what the wolf wanted was this fresh meat. It was hungry. So what if it was holding a knife? What good would that do? It had no concept of silver, or that silver was dangerous. So while Ulf was cowering, wanting to run, wanting to live, the wolf just ran at the mayor, wanting a meal. The mayor just held the knife in front of himself. Ulf wanted to stop, but knew he couldn't. This was the end. It seemed as if the wolf wasn't afraid of the knife. He ran right into it, and howled in pain. He pulled back. "I'm sorry, Ulf!" shouted the mayor, although there was no remorse in his voice. "But I have to do this! One dangerous civilian, or a whole town of innocent people? Who do you think I'm more willing to sacrifice?" He ran at Ulf, who was collapsed on the ground. He howled again, and Ulf's vision started to blur. His eyes started to close... he was dead.

Ulf began to wake up, although he didn't open his eyes. Wait... wake up? He thought he had died... a nightmare. Yes, it must've just been a dream. A dream of what would happened if he was discovered. Yes, he must've still been in his bed... he was safe. He opened his eyes, and gasped at what he saw. Above him was black sky, green splotches that seemed like distorted versions of clouds, and... doors? Floating doors? This had to be some sort ofodd nightmare. He sat up, and noticed he was sitting on some kind of rock path. A green rock path. With nothing but black void between Ulf and a very long fall. He also noticed he was in his wolf form... odd. If he was the wolf, how could he have control? He stood, and tried to walk down the path. Before long he lost footing. He prepared himself for a long fall, but he noticed he wasn't falling. He was... floating? This was eerie. Far too eerie. He then heard a voice, and whipped around. A creature in a black hood was behind him. The creature was clutching a scythe, and the hood hid its face. Its hand seemed skeletal. Ulf recognized this creature- the Grim Reaper. So he WAS dead... the reaper was saying something in another language... English? "No English," Ulf said to this creature in English, and then continued to speak his own language. This was the Grim Reaper, certainly it knew all languages. "Where am I? What's going on?" "Esperanto..." muttered the reaper in English. "Gotcha." He then repeated his earlier message in the language Ulf knew. "Welcome to the Ghost Zone." Ulf made a choked noise. "GHOST Zone?" he exclaimed. "GHOST!" The reaper nodded. "Yep, ghost. You're dead. Congratulations." A book appeared in his other hand, and he began to flip through it. "Lessee... Ulf... a werewolf. Killed with silver, the only way to kill your kind when in the wolf state." The reaper looked up. "Apparently you're staying in the wolf state. Ulf the wolf... WULF!" The reaper laughed. "Heh, I made you a nickname... oh, lighten up, Fido. It's all in good fun. If you hate the name THAT much, I won't use it, that simple. Yeesh..." "FUN! LIGHTEN UP!" Ulf snapped. "I JUST DIED! One of the LAST things on my mind is fun right now! I'm trying to get used to the fact that I'm DEAD!" The reaper probably would've looked surprised if his hood was down. "...wow... like I said... lighten up, buddy. Get that attitude with a lot of the ghosts around here and you might experience a second death. You aren't immortal. This is just a second chance. So watch yourself. Well... that's all I'm really supposed to be doing now. Letting you know that you died, telling you you're not immortal, and maybe cracking a few jokes. Sometimes I or another reaper appear to the new dead to show them how things run around here, but eventually they're on their own." "Other reapers?" questioned Ulf. "Yeah. Other reapers. What, you think I do this MYSELF? With people dropping dead left and right? Yeah, sure, I can do that... anyway, you're on your own now, buddy. I have some more lucky people to give the grand tour. Occasionally one of us'll check up on you, but after the first month or so we're done. See ya, Wulf!" the reaper vanished. Ulf looked around. He noticed he was still floating- and what's more, floating seemed to come second nature. He floated off, hoping to find someone helpful.

Ulf's first few months weren't all that eventful, other than the fact that the nickname Wulf had caught on. He was starting to forget that he was ever Ulf or human- no, he was always Wulf, and he was the always the ghost of a wolf. He'd discovered that a lot of ghosts were quite nasty, and wanted nothing to do with him. A reaper explained that this was a process known as "ectoplasmic poisoning". The stuff was floating all over the place, and in the reaper's words, "drives many ghosts loopy." The reaper mentioned that there was the rare case of a ghost who didn't react to the ectoplasm, and that Wulf seemed to be one of those rare cases. "Not good," the reaper had said. "A good, pacifist of a ghost living amongst ghosts willing to pick a fight? I recommend very, very limited contact with others." So Wulf lived a calm, if somewhat lonely, life as a ghost. Not that the lack of contact bothered him. When he was alive, most people ignored him. Just thought there was something wrong with the guy. It wasn't as if his family lived there- he moved in alone. What made him think he could just stroll in to town? And what was up with his disappearing at full moon? What, was he cowardly? Running away from the wolf? Not wanting to even try to fight it off and protect people? That was the common gossip Wulf heard in his life. So even alive, human contact was dangerous. He didn't want people learning what he was... although they did, eventually. He just settled into a cave he had found, feeding himself with livestock that had probably been eaten during life, and that he might've eaten in his life. He hoped to keep anonymity. Which he did for a long while.

But word had gotten out. There was this wolf ghost... absolutely pitiful creature. He wouldn't fight. He looked positively evil, but when confronted, unless he had something to gain from the fight, he'd run. And he had this power- if he scratched at the air, he'd tear a hole in the Ghost Zone. He'd be able to jump through the hole into the world of the living. Most ghosts would do anything to go back to where they once lived. Here he was, able to do that, and he was just sitting in a cave? What was wrong with him?

But one ghost liked the fact that Wulf was a pacifist. So much strength, and he could just take it! And he wouldn't do a thing about it! Yes, Wulf would be his slave... Wulf could be used to capture prisoners... Wulf was absolutely surprised when a prison warden and his goons showed up at his cave. "Hello... Wulf, is it? My name is Walker. Warden Walker." is how he introduced himself. In English, so Wulf had no idea what Walker had just said. But he heard the name Wulf, so he had a feeling this might not be good. "Bullet! The collar!" Wulf had no idea what was going on... should he flee? Yes, fleeing seemed good... but one of Walker's goons had slapped a collar onto his neck. He swung his paw behind himself, hoping to hit whatever had put this... THING on him, but missed. Bullet had the sense to back away quickly after putting on the collar. Walker pressed a button on a remote he was holding, and a mighty electric shock shot through Wulf's body. He fell forward, but pushed himself up. He remembered what he could do with his claws. He rose his paw, tore a hole in the Ghost Zone, and prepared to hop through to wherever the hole happened to lead to. But another shock shot through his body. Two of Walker's goons managed to handcuff Wulf's paws behind his back while he was being shocked. Walker smirked. "Here's the deal, Wulf- you have so much raw power. You'd be quite useful... so, this is the deal. I run a jail, and I need stronger guards. You're going to help me round up prisoners. You do this, and I'll do something for you- I'll let you live. Yes, that's the deal. You help me, and I don't KILL you." "OK, I have no idea what you're saying... BUT LET ME GO!" Wulf shouted. "Ugh..." Walker made a disgusted noise. "The thing doesn't even speak English." Walker bent down. "But I learn quickly, Wulf... I'll learn your language. But until then... I want you available to me." Walker then looked up. "GOONS! Take him to the prison, and lock him up tight. And keep an eye on him." Walker tossed Bullet the remote. "If he tries escape, just hit the button. Shock him. We can't get through to him with words, but shock treatment should teach him to stay where he is." Wulf attempted to squirm away from his captors, but all that earned him was yet another hefty shock. This one left him unconscious. The next time he awoke, he was in a prison cell. And that was where he remained.

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This is likely to only be updated sporadically. I rarely get time to write, and it's actually pretty hard to think of ideas for these. Coming up next is my version of Ember's life and death. Which has been done to excess, which is why I didn't start with Ember. Anyway, until next time... 


End file.
